


Snap

by RussianWitch



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: "For the record: this was never the plan. What I mean to say is: you were never on the menu, Steven!" Danny grumbles mashing a pillow in to an acceptable shape for rest. "Not even the super secret one you always hear about that always turns out not to be a thing!"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Шлеп](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10677171) by [cicada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicada/pseuds/cicada)



> not beta'd

"For the record: this was never the plan. What I mean to say is: you were never on the menu, Steven!" Danny grumbles mashing a pillow in to an acceptable shape for rest. "Not even the super secret one you always hear about that always turns out not to be a thing!" Steve blinks at him, stealthily shifting closer or oozing maybe, Danny isn't quite sure. "I don't—," He tries t explain himself properly before giving up, "not that you care, you animal!" He really wants to hate Steve at the moment, only the idiot blinks at him. Somehow Danny finds himself opening his arms so Steve can crawl closer, draping himself across Danny's chest like a sharp edged, heavy thermo blanket. "You liked it." The tall man mumbles against his throat, and Danny's hand unconsciously finds Steve's sore rump eliciting a happy moan. "I liked it, what's the problem?" Maybe, Danny figures, for Steve the whole thing is just that easy. For Danny not so much: he doesn't generally do things casually, never got the hang of it. 

"Daaaanno! Stop thinking so loud already!" Steve complain, lifting his head to glare at Danny somewhat cross-eyed. This shouldn't make him feel the urge to kiss the bastard and yet— Not bothering to respond to the demand, Danny gives up distracting himself with the feel of Steve's sore ass under his hands, how it's still radiating heat from the punishment it took. Steve shivers and purrs, and Danny has to swallow something ridiculous like a declaration of—something, that's on the tip of his tongue. Yet another thing to blame Steve for. 

Danny himself is to blame as well, he should have learned by now not to engage in arguments with the crazy man, it's what usually leads them into various messes. He rakes his nails down Steve's back in annoyance, and feels Steve's dick twitch against his thigh. "You would have a recovery period of next to nothing." He sighs, telling himself that any minute now he's going to shove the SEAL off and start for home. "You say that like it's a bad thing."  

Maybe home, always from all things Steve he'll be able to clear his head: figure out where they will go from here. Danny never got the hang of not thinking, of simply enjoying the moment. Every choice, every move he makes, Danny is always painfully aware just how much can go wrong. It's gotten worse over the years: after losing his partner, after getting Grace, after—everything up to and including moving to Hawaii and—He'd managed to find his equilibrium with the team and with Steve, and now... 

If Steve hadn't kidnapped him after following a lead turned in to a shootout again, Danny wouldn't have snapped. He'd wanted to go home, cool off, maybe try those mediation exercises Grace showed him after they had a mindfulness class at school. He would have gone home and done all that, or just gotten drunk, but Steve had stolen his keys and when Danny had finally relented drove them to his own place instead of driving Danny home ignoring all of Danny's objections during the drive. 

He'd been left standing next to his key-less car, mid rant in front of Steve's open front door, and that had been the last straw. Danny had stormed in, intent on giving Steve a proper piece of his mind. He'd found the frustrating man in the kitchen ass in the air, digging for something on the lowest shelf of the refrigerator—That somehow had finally broke whatever Danny had left that passed for self control, his hand connected with the muscular buns before his brain had worked through the consequences. The sharp slap echoes through the otherwise silent kitchen as Danny envisioned sexual harassment charges, transfers and all the misery job loss was about to bring—When Steve shuddered, straightening up and closing the fridge door slowly. Danny stood there frozen, because normal people did not do things like that and he'd always thought of himself as a normal person, and Steve's eyes dark with something Danny couldn't recall ever being directed at himself before. He should have run then, but the hunger in Steve's eyes had kept him cemented to the floor as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. 

Danny had always imagined meeting a predator outside of a zoo feeling the same way, his body full of contradicting impulses adrenaline making the rest of the world disappear. Steve stepped up, forced Danny to crane his neck to keep looking him in the eyes properly, cocked his head and drawled. "That the best you can do?" And all the worry and guilt turned in to the sort of rage that allowed a simple cop to pin a navy SEAL with fifteen years of experience under his belt against the kitchen counter. 

"No," Danny snarled, "No, Steven that's not the best I can do." Bending the tall body over the counter and groped for Steve's belt buckle, somehow figuring that if he was doing—this, he was going to do it right. Of course if he'd been in his right mind, he would have let go, stepped away, got the hell out and flagged down a cab further up the boulevard. Only Steve twisted in some boneless way usually only reserved for aquatic mammals and arched his brow. 

Next thing he remembers is Steve's bare ass under his hand turning a very nice shade of deep pink, and the man's suspiciously ecstatic groans badly muffles against the counter as Steve wiggled unconvincingly. When Danny checked, Steve's dick had been hard and wet making a mess of the cabinet door. He still isn't sure what possessed him to grab Steve by the hair and force him down to his knees, "Clean up after yourself!" He growled, half expecting Steve to refuse, only he didn't. 

Danny had never seen anything hotter than Steve fighting against the grip on his hair, dragging his tongue over the cabinet door, licking up the pre-come he'd spilled moments before. It's a miracle the zipper of his slacks doesn't burst, Danny gets so hard. By the time Steve finished licking the door clean, Danny had been squeezing himself through his slacks, contemplating the odds of having Steve's agile tongue wrapped around his balls. As if reading his mind, Steve had gone right for his crotch as soon as he'd been done with the door, nuzzled happily at the fabric growling, like a wild animal with a bone, barely letting up when Danny decided to be magnanimous and unzip, using most of his strength to keep Steve from getting in the way. 

Sliding his dick down Steve's throat had felt magical. Danny had never seen anyone take a dick like that before, not even in porn had he seen anyone open themselves for use so completely. Steve swallowed around him over and over, huffed labored breaths in to Danny's pubic hair, he hadn't really bothered to suck—but then he hadn't needed to with his throat milking Danny for all he was worth. "You'll be the death of me." He'd cursed, pulling out much to Steve's displeasure. The sight of Steve, bare assed on hands and knees in the middle of his kitchen face wet with pre-come, drool and sweat, mouth open and red from use all the while meowing for more is going to stay with Danny forever. 

If he'd had a second longer to think then maybe, Danny thinks, he would have come to his senses: zipped up and walked out. If Steve hadn't shuffled forward, and rubbed his body against Danny's leg like an overly proprietary cat, wiggling his red, mottled ass. 

Danny dragged him up the stairs by the hair. Not that Steve had protested having to navigate the stairs on hands and knees, or getting thrown on the bed. He just grinned dopily arching his back, long legs thrown wide in an artless sprawl. Danny watched him touching himself, memorized the way Steve dragged his shirt up exposing more of his body to Danny's hungry eyes. He'd almost torn his ACL all over again getting out of his pants to get at the annoying man when Steve had sucked two fingers into his mouth. "Shameless!" Danny blurted, sliding between Steve's legs grabbing, and roughly stroking Steve's dick. 

Steve bit him, possibly forgetting himself, probably because Danny was judging. From the feel of it, Danny is going to have marks on him for a couple of days. His first instinct was to slap the prone man, instead he licks his own fingers and pushed them roughly into Steve's body ignoring pained curses. Steve was hot inside, and tight enough that Danny's dick jumped in anticipation of being buried in that heat. "Didn't say it was a bad thing, babe." He defended himself, twisting his fingers and stretching Steve's hole, "In fact, I appreciate it very, very much." He leaned down to mouth messily at the head of Steve's dick, made a mess out of both of them saliva and pre-come mixing on his cheeks. 

"Danno!" Steve groaned, "fuck me already!" He demanded, like the greedy, impatient—Danny didn't bother giving warning, he slammed into the lean body under him burying himself to the hilt. The way Steve howled, he didn't mind even if Danny was sure Steve felt the burn of the too fast entry. The sound stirred something dark in Danny's gut, made him want to hear what other sounds he could force from Steve. Pinning Steve's hips to the bed, he got down to business. 

Only it hadn't felt quite right, granted they were both enjoying themselves, and Steve _had_ beenmoaning prettily—he sat up higher, dug his fingers into Steve's tender ass, pushed and pulled until he had Steve's long legs over his shoulders folding the long body practically in half. Steve braced against the headboard, arm muscles straining appealingly looking sex-drunk and—Danny fucked him harder, his knee be damned had really put his back into it. 

Hands slipping on Steve's sweat slick skin forced Danny to dig his nails in, mark the annoying man up, rip him apart. Not that Steve'd been objecting, not the way he arched up practically offering himself for mauling, dick waving between them like a red flag. "This what you want, Steven?" Danny growled gripping Steve's shoulders hard enough to add bruises to their other decorations. "Want to feel it tomorrow every time you sit down?" He bent down to leave several bite marks down Steve's chest, enjoying Steve's harsh breaths. "Yes!" Steve hissed back, possibly encouraging more biting, possibly answering Danny's questions. 

Danny's thought process had degenerated to mostly sensations: the taste, smell, sound, feel and sight of Steve, sweat and bruises, not being sure where one ended and the other began. The sticky mess of Steve's release between them, and the way he tightened around Danny demanding to feel him coming. 

Brain cells and breath took their sweet time returning. By the time Danny was more or less coherent again, Steve had somehow managed to untangle them and even clean them up some. Danny looked over at the other man; Steve looked weirdly determined, and that something Danny hadn't wanted to think about. "Only you McGarrett!" He sighed, sneering at the lumpy pillow that was already killing his neck. "I want to make one thing clear—" 


End file.
